


Not Enough

by Candyfloss_And_Fairymoss



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, cuphead is 21+ in all my writings, one sided dicecup angst, sometimes saying sorry isn't enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-03 12:11:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12748053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candyfloss_And_Fairymoss/pseuds/Candyfloss_And_Fairymoss
Summary: Instead of turning the brothers into mindless servants after a battle gone awry, the Devil decides to make the stakes even more interesting: one can give up his life and stay in hell forever, while the other roams free, never to see the other again. Cuphead has a plan, and so does Mugman. Dice finds himself drunk and honest, and confides in the Devil, and life in Hell gets more difficult by the day. Bad ending. Angst.





	1. Not Enough

They lose.

They fall, they crack, they scream in frustration and pain and fright. But they do make sure of one thing, they make things right. The contracts are thrown into the very fire that forged them, ashes flying up and catching in the Devil's fur, mocking him. He looks fit to be tied, as the flames feed of his anger and grow taller, unruly, and hot. And then, he grins, and the bothers flinch away in horror as he  _laughs_ , laughs like someone has just told him a sinfully clever joke that he can't contain. He looks at them before pulling out two more contracts.

"You idiots.", he cackles, dissolving from his massive, towering state back to his original size. He snaps his fingers and suddenly they are in the thrown room, and there are demons all round, cheering, King Dice comes to stand by the thrown: his suit adjusted, his eye blacked out, and a dissapointed scowl on his face. They eye him with fright, before focusing on the devil, as he waves the contracts in the air teasingly. "You idiots forgot, now matter if you saved all those fools up there, you're still  ** _MINE_**!!" The fires flare, the demons set up a cacophony of laughter and screams and cheers so loud that the brothers fall to their knees to cover their ears, they eye each other in horror. They have lost.

"Boys, its been quite awhile since someone gave me such a run for my money, even at this cost!", he chuckles and leans back in his throne, "Hell, it would be a shame to waste all that potential turning you two into living ventriloquist dummies!" At this, Cup and Mug eye each other, horrified, what could he possibly have thought up for them that was 'better' than the worst thing they could think of? They watch him rise, and conjure two smaller, glowing versions of themselves in his hands: they float there so lifelessly they feel their stomachs turn and twist into knots.

"Just to see what two interesting boys like y'all would do, I'll cut you  _another_ deal!", at this the demons step closer, seemingly hungry for what the Devil has to say, "One of you can go home!" At this, the small replica of Mugman floats higher, becomes animated, and runs across the Devil's palm before dissolving into thin air on his fingertips. "The other, will stay in Hell forever, working for me. You will never see your brother, your family, or the surface world again!" The replica of Cuphead drops into the Devil's palm, and he promptly clenches his fist to crush it into a poof of dust. Cup flinches as Mug grips his shoulder like a vice, shaking like a leaf. "You will belong. To.  _Me._ " The demons clamor then, all silent but laughing horrifically: this is a joke to them, this is entertainment in Hell, and the brothers cower in disgust and fright. King Dice's stern frown is still there, and no one is sure what he is thinking of the situation itself, as he shows no real interest himself. They all wait with bated breath, eyes on the Devil as he conjures a portal with a wave of his hand. 

From where the brothers sit, they can see their home: the sun shines bright, the house is quiet, they can practically smell the air and hear Elder Kettle puttering away about their fate inside, worried about them. "One goes through, the portal will shut itself off forever. Well, Dice,", the Devil leans towards his right-hand man with a grin as coy as a cat with a canary, "I know what you hope will happen!" He laughs, and Dice frowns deeper, his eyes flashing that viridian green before going dark again. They wait.

"Mugs?"

Mugman turns slightly, before being engulfed in a hug, and he finds himself shaking just as hard as his brother, tears pricking his eyes. He buries his head in his shoulder and cries too, they take their time, but ultimately they know they don't have enough time.

"I love you Mugs-"

"I love you too, Cup!", he's gasping in his tears, and he hopes that Cup doesn't feel him shifting his weight. He knows his choice, he wants his brother safe, and he's prepared to throw him into the arms of safety even if it-

"I'm sorry."

Cuphead shoves him, hard, so hard that if they hadn't already been crying he would have teared up a little. He feels his feet hit the portal, and then the cool air of the forest washes away the heat of Hell. Mugman hits the ground with enough force to skid from the portal, or where the portal would be, he can no longer see into Hell, or his brother. There is only the sound of the forest, the calmness of the breeze, the feeling of the grass beneath his hands, and their house behind him. It feels like a slap to be here, to be free.

"C-Cup...Cuphead!?  _CUPHEAD!? CUPHEAD!!!!"_

..................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

He sits alone, but not alone: the demons watch him, the Devil grins, and King Dice looks... relieved. 

He feels tears on his cheeks, on his shoulder, and he realizes that he shoved his brother so hard his straw remains before him. He grabs it, almost like a lifeline, and he sits again. He will never see Mugman again, or Elder Kettle, he will never hear them laugh again, never hug them again, never... never....never again.

He isn't sure when he started wailing, not sure when his sobs went from small and coherent words to chest heaving sobs that have his muscles weak. His throat hurts but he continues to cry, to grip his brother's discarded straw, and to regret. He regrets coming into the casino, he regrets begging Mugs to join him, he regrets his foolishness, he regrets and regrets and regrets. 

When the tears finally slow, he looks up, and no one is in the throne. How long has he been crying? He looks to the side of the throne and there, walking towards him, is King Dice. He considers running, but the throne room is so dark he can't be sure where he would go, and he's suddenly so tired. He watches the King approach, his steps are light and his face is blank, his hands tight behind his back. When he gets close enough to Cup that his shoes touch his, he leans down to help him to his feet.

"Leave me alone.", He hates how his voice wobbles and catches, his mouth is dry and tastes like a penny. He must have cried for a long time. He doesn't have long to dwell on this, as he feels himself being lifted into the air, and then he's fighting. He squirms and kicks and screams, he asks to be left alone. Dice carries him, endures every hit and kick and scream, his jaw tight and his grip gentle. He takes Cuphead to a room that looks like a bedroom, sitting him on the bed. He stands, he looks like he has something to say, but before he can think of anything Cup buries his head into the pillows and starts wailing. Dice watches him, before sitting next to him and rubbing gentle circles along his back, and gently shushing him. Its a good thing he cannot see me, he thinks, thank God he cannot see me. When Cup's sobs slow, and his body goes limp except for the hand clutching the blue and white striped straw, he stands and leaves, locking the door behind him. He walks to his own room, and barely notices the tears on his own face. 

................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

"How's he doing?"

"He doesn't talk, he won't eat, he just works and goes to his room."

"Hmm. Its been six months, or seven? Who keeps track?"

"He cries.", Dice throws a card on the table and takes a puff of a cig, "He does a lot of that."

"He ought,", The Devil throws out a card as well, to take one, "Its a punishment, Dice."

"I wish he'd stop."

"That's not all you wish he'd do, Dice. When are you gonna tell him?"

"...I.....", he sets down his hand, and puts his head down as well, its killing him inside.

"Hmm. Dice, way I see it, he could use a friend.", He takes a pull on his cigar, "If he rejects you, thats that-"

"It won't be that,", Dice is muffled, "If he says no I'm gonna die a broken die. If he says no-"

"I could always  _make_ him say yes."

Dice shakes his head, "He suffers enough."

The Devil rolls his eyes, "He suffers very little, this is _Hell_. He  _busses tables_."

"He never sees his family, they never see him. They will  _die_ and he will be here. He won't know."

The Devil gets up, walking to the liquor cabinet and grabbing a bottle of something that looks wicked in nature, along with its accouterments, before returning to his seat. A lump of sugar so impossibly clear that it would bend the minds of chefs long in the business, a liquor blue as the daylight, and the smell of something alcoholic and deceitful. It hits the sugar and shifts to take on the hue of a moonlit night sky. Dice looks up at the smell, and scoffs, "Odd colored absinthe?"

The Devil laughs, "Dice, this is what absinthe  _wishes_ it could be. This is Setrer, liquid courage. If you can't talk to him after sipping this, then its a null point and you can sulk and pine forever, if you talk to him then you get your answer and you can stop  _this!"_ , he gestures to Dice's general state. Dice finds himself grimacing, he doesn't think that getting drunk would be the best way to approach this, but he doesn't have any other ideas, and Cuphead will be getting off work soon, and returning to his room. He makes it a point to be there, to try and comfort him when he cries, but if he's drunk...

"You'll be sober."

"You're lying."

"Alright, you'll be tipsy."

He eyes the drink again, watching it swirl, and ultimately decides that one can't hurt. He knocks it back, and it  _burns_. His torso heats, then his face, it tastes like....  _heaven_. Its sweet and deep, like honey and gin, and he sits back in his chair and waits. It doesn't take long, the world does a quick shimmy, swimming side to side before settling. He blinks, theres now a fire in his belly and a desire to leave and find Cuphead.

"Good luck, Dice."

"If I make a fool of myself, I'll bend you into a crucifix."

"You're welcome."

..................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

He finds himself outside Cuphead's room, and the world is doing that shimmy shimmy again, but he manages to knock twice. Its a courtesy, he knows Cup won't answer the door, and that its unlocked, but its polite. He opens the door after a few minutes, and steps inside, "Cuphead?" He can hear the sniffles coming from the bed, and he walks there, sitting beside him, "Cuuuuphead? I need to talk to yoooooou~" He's going to throttle the Devil, he isn't drunk but he's talking like a fool, he hates this.

"Go away, Dice.", he's muffled, and sounding so sad it tugs at his heartstrings, and he finds himself pouting a bit.

"I love you, Cuphead." Dammit Dammit Dammit  _Dammit_. He wasn't supposed to say it so soon, but now that its out, "I love you, Cup. I love you with all my heart." Liquid courage should be relabled Liquid-Spill-Your-Guts-and-Want-To-Die, he feels hot in his face as he leans closer, "Did you hear me?"

He watches the covers shift, and Cuphead comes out. "What?" His eyes are narrowed, and red, and watery. He wants to kiss him, to feel him, to make this all better, to make his hurt go away. 

"I love you. I love you very much."

"You smell like a distillery.", He glares, and scoots away on his bottom. 

"I love you, Cup.", he searches him for anything besides distaste, "I love you very much, I'm in love with you, Cuphead." He scoots closer, "I want to be there for you, I want to make this better." He smiles sheepishly and scoots closer. "I want you to be mine, Cup-"

_SLAP_

He doesn't register that he's been hit, till the ringing in his ears calms down, and he frowns in confusion. Cup has tears in his eyes, and his hand hovers mid air. When he speaks, its a growl.

"You get the  _hell_ away from me!", he swings his hand again, and Dice manages to catch his wrist, only for him to kick out and make him jump off the bed altogether. "YOU GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!" He stands up, and the pillows come flying, "You let this happen, you think I  _forgot_ that the Devil said you  _hoped_ for this!? I will never see my brother again!! I get to rot _HERE_ _!!!"_ He's crying then, tears down his cheeks, and Dice is aware that his own eyes are stinging as well as his cheek. "Get the hell out Dice, and don't you _dare_ come back!"

...................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

He avoids the rooms for weeks, he avoids everyone for weeks.

His cheek stings, and his eyes water. He cries for the first time in a long time, genuinely.

The Devil stops by, he doesn't say anything, and that makes it worse. He knows he means no harm, but God it hurts.

He soon musters courage enough to get up and do something, anything. He walks the casino floor with a smile that feels as fake as the jewels on some of the patrons, he lies about himself: I'm fine, how are you, I love this song, You can't be beat raise the steaks. 

And then, just when he thinks this is alright, that he can do this, he sees him. Red and white straw bobbing between tables, face stern and sad and alone. He watches him, staring, and soon he feels his heart throbbing in his chest, he'd like to go over. To apologize. 

Cup dissapears into the kitchen, but the heartache persists.

.................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

King Dice finds himself outside Cup's door again, a gentle knock.

Cup doesn't answer, but he knows the door is locked. So he slides himself to the mail slot halfway down the door. "Cup?"

"What did I tell you before?", he sounds tired, and watery. He's been crying again.

"I'm sorry.", He blurts it before Cup can say anything else, "I'm so sorry." He repeats it till the words beat his heart further and further down in his chest, he feels that damned pricking at his eyes again and knows he won't be able to keep a straight face much longer. He leans his head on the door and pours his soul out, he's so so sorry.

The door swings open and he almost tumbles into Cuphead, straightening at the last moment. Cup's eyes are dark, angry, his mouth a tight line as he looks Dice up and down.

"I hear you.", he sounds so distant and cold, so different from how he used to be, "I hear you, but its  _not enough_." 

The door slams, and he finds himself kneeling there, in the hall, alone. He walks back to his own quarters, his heart sunk deep in his shoes, and tears making their slow, salty way down his cheeks. 

..............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

He sees Cup everyday, and his heart leaps before sinking so low he wonders if he has one at all. 

 _Being the Devil's property wasn't my eternal punishment_ , he thinks,  _this is_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember what I said about not writing another chapter for this? Yeah, fuck that, time to self project thru King Dice

It's been 4 years.

Four years since the battles, 4 years since Cuphead made his choices, and 4 years since he's spoken to anyone beyond the repeating of orders.

King Dice watches him. He hates how his eyes seemed trained to look for him: tired eyes, a flicker of red and white, the rare sound of his voice in the cacophony of the kitchens and the casino game floor. He hates how his heart is trained to him as well. It flutters when he seems him, the sinks down so low Dice finds himself choking on words that threaten to become sobs, it catches in his throat when Cup brushes past him in tight quarters and his face screws up with an unreadable expression -anger? disgust?  _hatred_?- and he strides away.

He hates how it thrashes in his chest at night, how it urges him to go to Cup's room and see maybe if this time it would be different, if this time he would listen, if maybe this time he would climb into his arms and let him hold him and maybe even forgive him and want him and kis-

He sobs, they catch and become hiccups as he resists the hopes and the want and the  _need_. 

His throat burns, his heart aches, his eyes water, and he bites his tongue so hard he is sure it will swell.

He hates this. He knows he deserves it, but that doesn't make it hurt less.

.......................................................................................................................................................................................... 

"Can I ask you something, Boss?"

The Devil looks up from his hand after shifting some cards around, "Shoot?"

"Would you take one soul for another?"

"A souls a soul, Dice.", he throws down a few cards and takes a drag on his cigar, "Rather have two, but if the offered one is better-"

"Would you take mine?"

" **NO."** , he slaps some more cards down, harder this time, the cigar smoke billows out of his mouth, "Take the soul of my oldest friend, what the hell is wrong with you Dice?"

"What the hell isn't wrong with me these days?", he tosses down a flush and leans back, "I wanted to make a trade."

"For what?"

"Cuphead."

Silence. Dice waits to be yelled at, and is honestly surprised when Devil answers in a near whisper, "Dice do you  _hear yourself?_ Like when you  _speak_ do you  _listen_ to yourself?"

"I just want  _this_ ,", and he taps just above his heart for emphasis, ", to  _stop!_ You think I like running around here like a giant wet blanket? You think I like  _looking_ at him like this?", hes yelling, "At least if he's fucking gone I can  _stop!"_ He isn't sure when he stood up, but he is, and he's shaking slightly.

"Dice... Dammit, go get that little so and so, I have  _had it_!"

..........................................................................................................................................................................................

Cuphead doesn't expect much anymore. He cries until he falls asleep, has nightmares, he wakes up and goes to work, he goes back to his room and repeats.

He doesn't expect two  _very_ large  _very_ familiar playing cards open his door and drag him out of bed and down the hall, he stiffens as they pass King Dice's office, and finds himself confused as they walk right past it and down the hall to the big black door of the Devil's office. 

The door swings open, the cards step out and close the door behind them, and Cuphead finds himself looking at the Devil, and no one else. He looks royally put off, smoke from his cigar draped around him in wispy tendrils, he gestures to the chair in front of his desk and Cup slowly walks forward and sits down.

"Wheres Dice?"

"Do you care?"

"No.", he frowns.

"Then why ask?"

"His cards came and got me."

 _Where the hell is Dice then?_ , the Devil finds himself wondering. A quick telepathic search of the casino reveals him to be just outside the door, leaning closely and listening in. He looks pained slightly, his hands busily fiddle with his buttons, then his cards, and then themselves. Dammit.

"You know why you're in here, you little snot?"

"Another punishment?"

He'd like to, part of him thinks he'd throw this dirty dish into the washer and make him wait till the dry cycle, and another part of him drifts to his elixir cabinet and eyes two potions. One a whispy silver that shifts within its bottle, and another a sickly candy pink that makes him frown harder. Two sips is all it would take, one of each. The silver would make him forget, retaining only what the Devil or Dice decided was the best for him. The pink would put him right into Dice's arms and keep him there unless Dice came to his senses and decided he couldn't stand the little weirdo. He's tempted to jump up and dump both bottles down the little punks throat, but he knows this would only upset Dice. 

Damn damn  _damn_.

"No. You're here cuz you,", he pauses, he wants to light this little fucker up, to make him feel the pain that he's watched Dice have, he hesitates because Dice is still outside for just a moment, but then decides he's not in the mood to be soft, "Cuz you're a little bastard. Dice shows you kindness, he  _cries_ with you for six months straight and you throw it all back into his face. You don't have to love him but you could pull your head out of your porcelain ass and throw him a damn hello once in awhile!"

" ** _I DON'T OWE HIM ANYTHING!_** "", he slams his hands down on the desk and stands in his chair, he is screaming and Devil finds himself actually leaning away, " ** _HE WANTED ME DOWN HERE! HE DIDN'T CARE IF I  SUFFERED AS LONG AS  I WAS AROUND!_** "' He's huffing, his eyes stinging with tears, " ** _HE CRIED WITH ME BUT THAT DOESN'T FIX THE FACT THAT THIS IS... THAT THIS...."_** He sits down and wails,  _screams_ , buries his head in his hands and howls. Before he can do anything -like what, tell him to shut up, to try and dispute a fact he knew was true?- Dice slams through the door and looks ready to scoop Cuphead up like a wounded kitten. Devil flashes him a quick glare that only stops him halfway, his hands hovering just over Cup's back.

He's sure this is the worst headache he's ever had: sitting here watching Cup wail while Dice looks like his world is falling apart while he tries to fix it with stifled cooing. 

Fuck it.

"Get out."

Dice looks up, Cup hiccups around a sob that threatens to become another wail, "Get the hell out of here, and don't you come back.", he stands, walks around his desk and picks Cuphead up by the scruff of his sweater, "You pack your shit and  _get the fuck out_." He stomps down the hall, glaring out of the corner of his eye at Cup's snotty red face. He throws him into his room, and slams the door, waiting. He can hear him moving, rustling, he doesn't have much to collect. When he comes to the door again, he summons two demons that flank him on either side, "Take this little fool to the edge of the forest and leave him there, he knows his way home." They nod, and walk away with Cup's shaking form between them.

He almost wishes he  _had_ given him those potions. 

He walks back to his office, skirts around King's shaking form in the chair that Cup previously occupied, and sits. A contract sits on his desk, he burns it with just a look before lighting up a new cigar. "I sent him home."

No reply.

"He cannot come back."

Nothing.

"You should have gone to your office and stayed there, Dice."

He laughs, "And let you drug him with forgetfulness and love?"

They eye each other.

"I'm sorry, Dice."

Its an intense night in hell. The fires flare on and off as he works through anger and regret, and many of the workers could report that they hear crying from the office. They could, if they liked being burned to a crisp on the spot.

On the edge of a forest, three figures emerge, and one pauses to make sure that this isn't a mind game. Nothing but the cool breeze of the night, the stars above, and the lights of a house in the distance. 

The smaller figure takes off, running towards the lights and the sounds and shouting, "Mugs! Elder Kettle! I'm back!"

........................................................................................................................................................................................................

"He just got in."

Nothing.

"He's hugging his brother, he's crying, and the old one looks quite pleased."

A sob.

"He's telling them what happened."

He shakes, and Devil growls at the retelling of the past four years. 

"Is he happy?", his voice is so ragged and rough that he almost misses him speaking.

"Yes."

"Thats good."

It is good, but it still hurts. 

They all sit up that night. One group steeped in happiness at their reunion, and the other in sadness at rejection.

..........................................................................................................................................................................................................

The next few months are as peaceful as they can be in hell.

It all keeps turning: they work, they play cards, Dice finds himself slowly getting better. His heart aches at the sight of red and white stripes, and he tears up when passing that room.

They move on. 

And then the letter arrives.

He doesn't read it for weeks, denying its presence and its implications. Then, curiosity kills his cat.

_Dear Mr. King Dice_

_Thank you for convincing the Devil to send Cuphead home. Cup says that this isn't what happened but I figure that there was no way he made it out alone. We love him very much and are very happy to have him home again. He told us you watched over him, and we thank you for that as well._

_-thanks, Mugman and Elder Kettle_

He huffs, and isn't sure what he's feeling as he turns the paper over and sees, scrawled in quickly written script

_Thank you_

Part of him wants to cry, another part wants to laugh, and another still wonders why he bothered, why he took the time to write anything after what he's done. He places the letter on his desk, and decides that its time to find something else to do.

Even as he does, his heart still has that dull beat, that aching throb that has him biting back something he isn't sure is a sob, for the rest of the day.

He thinks it will never leave him. And part of him thinks that thats alright.


End file.
